Sitting perched on a patchwork throne,
Her feline form lays aslumber all alone.
As if a purring engine, lost in meditation,
Her world one of whiskered contemplation.

A hunter’s farce with eyes of emerald gleam,
She dreams of slumper, down a never-ending stream.
Tiny paws, lain like mittens of snow,
Twitch at the shadows, dancing to her dream.

Gentle beast! To wrap you in a bow,
You chase mice in memory of long ago.
Your belly rises and falls in rhythmic tide,
Your presence keeps me alive!